


The Chris Evans Collection

by avaalons



Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF, Chris Evans - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2018-07-14 10:42:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 13,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7167839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avaalons/pseuds/avaalons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of imagines, drabbles and one shots all centred on Chris Evans and you!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Interviews

**Author's Note:**

> All original ideas or fulfilled requests initially posted over on Tumblr.

Chris is getting real tired of the way interviewers keep telling him how weird and unusual it is that he married you, a woman who isn’t (or wasn’t, at least) famous or even in the film business at all. Then, one day, he decides to get a few home truths out there. 

‘Yeah, yeah, you’re right. It’s totally weird.' 

Chris seemingly agrees with the interviewer and there’s a beat of stunned silence in the room before he continues: 

'It’s completely unfathomable to me how someone as intelligent and beautiful and caring and patient as my wife chose to settle down and have a family with a meatball like me. I’ve got to be the luckiest guy in the world, right? So yeah, completely weird. She had to give up a lot to be with me - you know, going from being able to just live your life to having pictures taken of you when you’re doing the grocery shopping isn’t easy - but I will spend everyday of the rest of my life making sure she doesn’t regret her decision because she’s honestly the best thing that’s ever happened to me.’


	2. Being a Dad

Imagine Chris talking about recently becoming a dad in an interview.

‘I’m just… in awe every time I look at him, I got to tell you. It’s like, Ryan Reynolds is so chill and cool about his kids and I wish I could pull that off but I just can’t do it. People are sick of me talking about him - I’ve seriously become one of those parents. I look at this little baby and I’m just amazed by everything about him. He’s perfect and everything he does is incredible, I don’t even care. I mean, he’s only a few months old but he wiggles his fingers better than any other baby, that is a fact.’


	3. Cap's Shield

The Cap shield still comes out of the hall closet at parties occasionally but now Chris more often uses it, upside down, to spin your toddler son around on the kitchen floor.


	4. On Working with his Wife

Imagine that you are Chris’ wife and are playing Tony Stark’s daughter (also an Avenger). In the cast interviews on the press tour, everyone wants to know how you and Chris deal with being on opposing teams:

‘Well, you know, it’s hard to not take the rivalry home,’ Chris grins, jokingly.

‘Yeah, it’s getting a little “Mr and Mrs Smith” in our house at the moment,’ you carry on. ‘Causes a huge mess. We’ve got some serious redecorating to do.’

Downey chimes in, ‘The two of them are such serious professionals, so method.’

‘Yeah, right up until the point they get caught making out after the fight scenes behind hair and make up like a couple of teenagers under the bleachers,’ Mackie lands you in it with one raised eyebrow and you instantly turn bright red.

Even Chris is a tad bashful, rubbing the back of his neck as he attempts an explanation, 'Yeah, no, it’s just… There’s a lot of tension after you’ve been throwing your wife around like that, you know.’

'Oh my god Evans, just stop. Your mom is probably going to see this!’ you exclaim through your hands, waiting for the ground to open up under you, 'It was one time!’

The cast are all laughing at your expense as Anthony insists, 'Yeah, it was one time all right, only because no one ever went behind the hair and make up block again. I’m scarred for life. Can’t keep their hands off each other.’

This was going to be one long, long, long press tour and, at the moment, surviving the humiliation was uncertain.

'Can’t we just move on? Next question, for the love of God, please!’ you beg, as you look desperately at your husband for help.

Seeing his laughing expression, however, tells you you’ll be getting no help from him, 'You’re enjoying this a little too much, Christopher!’

He holds his hands up in surrender, 'Sorry sweetheart, it’s not my fault you can’t resist me.’ He leans over to soothingly whisper in your ear, his warm hand on your bare knee, 'But I can’t resist you either so we’re even.’

You hear an exasperated groan from somewhere behind you and when you hear the voice, it’s Seb: 'Seriously guys, get a room.’

You feel rather than see Chris’ beaming smile as he kisses your cheek before sitting back in his chair to continue the interview, leaving his hand in its comfortable home on your leg.


	5. Bucky's Love Interest

Imagine that you are married to Chris and the announcement has just been made that you’ve signed on to play Bucky’s love interest in the next Avengers movie:

‘So, the news that your wife will be joining the cast has just dropped, but she’ll be playing the love interest of Bucky. On a scale of one to ten, how weird is that going to be?’

Chris laughs and runs his hand over his beard before answering, ‘Well, she’s amazing so it was no surprise to me at all that she got the call. And you know, it’s just part of the job so you don’t really think of that person as their actual selves, you think of them as the character. I’ve seen all her movies - she’s seriously so watchable, I love watching her act. I’m so excited to be on set with her. So… I don’t think it will be weird at all.’

‘Not even a little bit? I mean, Sebastian Stan’s going to be romancing your wife.’

‘Honestly, it’s probably going to be weirder for him. I might just give him a talking to before we start, make a few things clear from the beginning - you know, don’t look like you’re enjoying it too much, keep your tongue out of her mouth, that sort of thing,’ Chris jokes.

'And really, he can romance her all he likes on set but he knows full well who she’s going home with at the end of the day. Mrs Evans knows how good she’s got it, let me tell you,’ he nods slowly, looking extremely smug and satisfied with himself for the camera, secretly knowing full well that you’ll have something to say about this when you find out.


	6. The Most Unrelaxed Dad-to-Be Ever

Imagine that the news of your pregnancy had been confirmed publicly by you and Chris a few months back. Doing the math, a few have worked out that you must have been in the early stages while you were filming the latest Cap movie. At three weeks until your due date, your press tour has been restricted to New York locations only, ready to head back to Boston to give birth whenever you may be required to!

‘So you found out you were pregnant while you were filming?’

You’d been trying to fall pregnant for a while and both you and Chris had been getting increasingly concerned when month after month nothing appeared to have changed. When you successfully got the role in the last Captain America movie, starring opposite your husband, you threw yourself in wholeheartedly as a distraction from the bigger worry growing in your mind: what would happen if there was never a baby?

Interviewers didn’t need to know all that, however.

You and Chris exchange a brief but knowing look before you begin, his pinky finger subtly hooking itself around yours.

‘Yeah, it was close to the end of filming though so it wasn’t like I was going to have to do the whole movie filmed from the waist up, or with strategically placed props or anything. All that really changed was my awesome stunt doubles took over a little more of the physical stuff. Turns out you can plan as much as you want but Nature’s just going to do her own thing in the end! Thankfully, the training prep for filming meant I was in the best shape of my life so I stayed pretty trim for a while… obviously not so much anymore!’ You grin wryly, nodding towards your now sizeable stomach. In truth, you liked being pregnant, and Chris definitely appreciated what it had done to your butt and your boobs.

How are you feeling about impending fatherhood, Chris?

'I’m probably about the most excited anyone can be. We’ve always talked about the future and what we’d do when we had a family and now all of things are actually going to come to fruition. Everything is falling into place and I’m really… content and relaxed at this stage I think.’

That last comment startles you and your eyebrows shoot up as you address your sadly delusional husband, 'Relaxed?! Are you kidding me?’

Your turn your attention back to the interviewer, 'Let me tell you, this guy is so far from relaxed it’s unreal. He’s got my poor midwife and doctor on speed dial, which he utilises. Frequently. He’s emailed the family a phone tree diagram, made by his own fair hand in a Word document by the way, so that everyone gets contacted when I go in. I’m using a pile of parenting books as a coffee table at the moment. Don’t even get me started on the first time I had Braxton Hicks. Relaxed is definitely not a word I would use, ever.’

Chris’ shoulders had been shaking with laughter throughout your little tirade, 'Okay, okay you got me. You know it’s only because I love you, right? I just like to be prepared and organised!’ He releases your pinky to raise his hands in defense.

Of course you knew why he’d been almost obsessively preparing for the birth of his first child, and of course it had everything to do with love. This baby had been so longed for and so patiently waited on that the day that test went positive instead of negative seemed nothing short of a miracle. You may tease him about it but in reality you were so glad of his preparations; you couldn’t imagine ever feeling so safe and so loved as you did at this very moment.


	7. His Wife is a Famous Author

Imagine that you are a famous and celebrated author, and also the wife of Chris Evans. You’ve recently had a book go best-selling and of course interviewers ask Chris about you.

I’ve got to ask: what’s it’s like being married to one of the most famous authors in the world right now?

‘Well it’s… awe inspiring to be honest. I’m absolutely her number one fan. Everything I read I’m like “Let me send this to some people - I want it in screenplay form and I want to direct it.” I can picture every chapter so clearly,’ Chris thrusts his index finger into his palm as he’s talking, miming pointing at a book.

‘I’m not sure she’d let me loose on one of her babies though,’ he says with a grin, ‘She’s extremely protective of her work and throws her heart and soul into everything so I can understand why she’s so reluctant to let producers get a hold of it. I’ll keep working on her though.’

Are you proud of each other’s achievements?

‘Are you kidding me?! We’re the most annoying couple in the world. We’re literally like, “No, you’re the best. No you’re the best. Shut up babe, you’re the best. No really stop it you’re the best.” Seriously though, I am so unbelievably proud and I don’t think I’ll ever get over the fact that she chose to marry me. I still have days when I secretly watch her working in her study and think “Man, I’m far too dumb for you,” but she seems happy so, hey, who am I to argue?!’

He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly but the sparkle in his eyes betrays his adoration.


	8. Get Off Tinder

It was kind of getting to the point where you felt like you spent every second of your life swiping left on Tinder. There had to be someone within a 50 kilometre radius who wasn’t a total fuckboy right? Unfortunately, Tinder had been doing nothing but proving you devastatingly wrong on that account so far and your frustration levels were mounting.

A hand waving directly in front of your face brought you back to the present.

‘Are you even listening to me today?’ Chris asked you, amused but maybe a tad impatient.

You blinked several times in confusion and looked at him, ‘Sorry, what did you say?’

‘I asked you if you wanted another beer but I think you’ve got bigger problems than a lack of alcohol at the moment,’ Chris leaned over you, bracing one hand against the arm of the garden sofa you were lounging in and with the other, reached towards you and pulled the cell phone from your grasp, ‘How about you stop trying to find Prince Charming amongst all the frogs on Tinder and just let me take you out.’

You looked at him with an arched eyebrow, 'I don’t need one pity date Chris. Believe it or not I’d actually quite like to meet someone who may stick around for more than just one night. If all I wanted was a fancy meal and a half decent bottle of wine, I’d go out with my girlfriends and save myself all this hassle.’

Chris was unnervingly silent for a second, his expression neutral, his eyes seemingly searching your face for something, but you weren’t sure what.

Eventually he responded, an easy, mischievous smile dancing across his features, 'First of all, it most certainly wouldn’t be a pity date. Second of all, I’d essentially ruin you for all other men so you’d have no choice but to go on multiple dates with me.’

You rolled your eyes at him fondly, 'Your modesty astounds me, as always, Evans.’

'Come on, what do you say? Give me one chance, one date to show you that you don’t need Tinder because everything you want is right here in front of you.’

It was your turn to be silent for a moment, mulling his offer over in your mind, 'Fine. One date. And it better be the best fucking date I’ve ever had in my life.’

'Sweetheart, I’ve not even planned a single thing for it yet and it’s already better than any Tinder date you’ve had, I guarantee it,’ as he spoke, he started swiping and prodding the screen of your phone.

'Chris, what are you doing?’ you asked, suspicions raised.

He didn’t say anything but continued with his attentions before handing it back to you with a triumphant expression.

'There!’ he announced, 'I’ve deleted the app. No more Tinder required.’

You took a long look at his proud face and shook your head bemusedly. 'One date,’ you reminded him, holding up your index finger to reiterate.

'No problem,’ he replied, 'Challenge accepted.’


	9. Sleepy Cuddles

You were crouched on the kitchen floor and had your head inside one of the cupboards as you stacked up the freshly dishwashed saucepans. This didn’t stop you, however, from hearing the front door open and close, followed by the scurrying of four paws on the hardwood floors as Dodger ran to greet his favourite person in the whole universe.

Unusually, no greeting for you was forthcoming. Even more unusual was that Chris hadn’t come to find you, which he normally did when he got home, to tell you about his day, or to ask you about yours, or even just to give you a hello kiss. Slightly puzzled, you stood up straight, closed the cupboard door and went in search of your errant boyfriend.

Walking down the hall, you poked your head through the doors of the lounge and study to no avail. Eventually, you found him slumped in the middle of the sofa in the TV room, cap pulled down over his eyes, chin pressed against his chest and fingers absentmindedly running over Dodger’s belly where he’d rolled over next to Chris.

‘Hey sweetheart,’ you asked gently, taking in his lethargic form, 'Everything okay?’

A low rumble drifted out from under the cap, 'Mmhmm, just tired.’

'Anything I can do?’ you replied, 'You want something to eat? A drink? I put some bottles of beer in the ice box about half an hour ago?’

Chris just shook his head in silent reply and opened his arms in your direction, still not looking up.

You smiled to yourself and rolled your eyes fondly; he was such a baby when he was tired. Without a word you folded yourself into his arms and removed his cap before wrapping your own arms around his shoulders and tucking his head under your chin, cushioning it against your chest. Dodger was kind enough to move momentarily while you spread your legs out across Chris’ lap and over the length of the sofa before he settled back down in the world’s smallest gap between your knees and the back cushions of the chair, squeezing himself under Chris’ arm.

Chris sighed deeply, one hand sliding into the back pocket of your jeans and the other tangling itself in Dodger’s fur.

'Better?’ you asked, kissing the top of his head and breathing in his clean, masculine scent. You leaned forward slightly to look at his face for a second and saw that his eyes, although closed, were puffy and tinged purple from exhaustion.

'A million times,’ he replied quietly, turning his head fractionally to leave a soft, tingling kiss on your collar bone, 'Love you, pumpkin.’

'Love you too, sweetheart.’


	10. House Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Chris are attempting you find your forever home.

‘C'mon babe, this one has got everything we said we wanted! Five bedrooms, big kitchen, lots of family rooms downstairs, masses of outside space, it’s ready to move in to… you seriously can’t see us living here?’

Chris pulled a face that clearly said no, he couldn’t. The realtor had left you both to ‘get a feel for the place’ and you had to hand it to her, she had the patience of a saint; this was the tenth property you’d viewed in half as many weeks and she still had a dazzlingly white smile on her face every time she gestured dramatically at a ‘focal feature fireplace’ or a 'cosy yet spacious veranda’. You let the deflated feeling take over you for the tenth time that month and your shoulders slumped as you admitted to yourself that Chris was right, this wasn’t the place for you no matter how many of your boxes it ticked.

 You felt his arm wrap comfortingly around your shoulders as he tucked your head under his chin. 'Don’t worry sweetheart, we’ll find the perfect place for us. It’s just taking a bit longer than we thought, that’s all.’

'Uh huh,’ you twisted your face up towards his and gave a weak smile, feeling pathetic when you felt the tears prick your eyes.

'I promise, before this year is out, we will have moved into our dream home,’ Chris declared before pecking you chastely on the lips.

***

As the weeks wore on, you were getting more and more frustrated with your current accommodation. It was Chris’ house originally and while it was lovely, everyday it served as an increasingly inescapable reminder that your perfect forever home was a dream that didn’t seem to be coming true.

Chris was working during the morning and after you finished the laundry, walked Dodger and did some calendar organising, you planned to spend the remainder of your time alone online, scouring the internet for houses up for sale.

Curling up on the sofa with your iPad, you checked the calendar for upcoming events and appointments for both Chris and yourself, reminding yourself of arrangements you needed to make when you suddenly felt your heart stop. Shit. Double shit! This could not be happening now, surely?

***

One incognito trip to the drugstore, a full carton of juice and a painfully long three minute wait later and apparently, yes it could be happening now.

As you stared down at the panic-inducing positive sign on the rather deceptively benign looking white stick, you could barely breathe. It turned out that the family part of the dream was going full steam ahead with or without the family home. Nothing was happening the way it was supposed to! You’d pictured already being settled into the perfect home by the time you were pregnant, with a beautifully light and airy room all ready for you to begin turning into a nursery. Instead, the future was uncertain. You glanced around you, trying to picture a baby there but all you could think was how completely not family friendly this house really was.

The frantic online search continued at pace, Dodger curling up bemusedly at your feet.

***

Dodger’s ear pricked up the second the front door opened and, shortly after, the rattle of keys on the sideboard in the hall way followed by the thump of his bag on the floor confirmed Chris’ arrival, 'Babe, you home?!’

'In here,’ you called back from the sitting room.

He popped his head around the door to make sure his assessment of your location was correct before heading straight for you and bending down to meet your lips with his.

'Hey, want to go for a drive? I want to take you somewhere.’

'What now? Okay?’ you replied, slightly confused but willing to go along with him.

'Come on then, get something on your feet. I’ll meet you out front.’

Chris was practically bouncing and you smiled to yourself, wondering what could have got him so worked up. You obviously had big news to share but apparently he had something on his mind already. Baby news would have to wait for now.

Slipping on a pair of flats for quickness, you grabbed your bag and keys, locked the front door behind you and clambered into the passenger seat of Chris’ car, where he was waiting with the engine running and hands already on the wheel.

'So where are we off to, my little man of mystery?’ you teased.

'You’ll see, just be patient,’ he warned good-naturedly as he pulled away from the drive. 'It’s a surprise.’

***

You’d been driving for around thirty minutes and you had stopped recognising your surroundings about ten minutes back. You hadn’t been living in the area very long when you met Chris and your knowledge of the geography of the place was still somewhat lacking.

You were out of town, that much was certain, and driving through a quiet and leafy residential area where traditional looking houses peeked over the tops of green, lush foliage. Eventually Chris indicated off the road and asked, 'You ready?’

You nodded yes, even as it occurred to you that you didn’t know what you were agreeing to be ready for. All was clear, however, when you looked ahead of you and gasped, involuntarily raising your hand to your mouth. In the not-too-far distance was a building that was, for want of a better word, beautiful. Rising out of a mature woodland of trees like a grown up treehouse, it stood unobtrusively in its surroundings. One corner was entirely glass and as Chris drove closer, you could see the wooden cladding stretching horizontally around the exterior walls of the building. Trees lined the driveway too, and when you saw the rope and tyre swing hanging from one thick branch, hope bloomed in the pit of your belly, making you turn to look at Chris, reaching across and placing your hand desperately on his thigh.

'Please, please tell me this is for sale and not a friend’s house.’

A slow smile spread across Chris’ face, obviously pleased by your reaction, 'It’s for sale and we’re getting first look. It’s not due on the market for another week but Catherine Spencer called me at work today and gave me a tip off. I drove over here on my way home to give it the once over.’

'You did? And? What did you think?’

By this time, the car had slowed to a halt and Chris had switched off the engine, 'Well, we’re here, aren’t we? Come inside and have a look for yourself.’

Chris was clearly enjoying himself far too much so you unfastened your seat belt and climbed out, heading to the front door with nervous anticipation.

***

It was official; you were in love. There was nothing about the house you didn’t like. Sure, it needed some redecoration to suit your tastes but the minute you stepped through the door, you got The Feeling. This was the one. In the middle of the kitchen, the room that was the proud owner of the downstairs portion of the glass corner, you started crying.

'Babe, what’s the matter?!’ Chris asked, the pitch in his voice rising ever so slightly in concern.

'Nothing, I don’t even know why I’m crying,’ you choked out between sobs, 'It’s just so lovely! I want it Chris. Me, you, Dodger, here in this house, making it our home.’

'Me too, sweetheart, me too. Wait until you see upstairs.’

The master bedroom had the upstairs portion of the glass corner, looking out over a balcony into verdant green forest. Chris had led you by the hand, showing you each room in turn, saving the master and the room next door for last.

'And this,’ he said, as he turned the handle on the final door, 'would make a great nursery, I thought.’

The door swung open to reveal a large and well lit room currently being used as a study. It wasn’t difficult to imagine a crib and dresser in there; pale pastels on the walls and a mobile dangling from the ceiling, a rocking chair adorned with a crocheted blanket in the corner.

As you stepped further in, it was the view from the window that took your breath away. The garden below was in a clearing and was flanked by forest on either side that gradually opened up to meadow and fields beyond. A large jungle gym stood in one corner of the clearing and there was a decked area with patio seating and a huge barbecue. This was a house made for family. But the persistent thought that your family would be here quicker than this house would be ready niggled in your mind.

From behind you, Chris’ voice was soft, 'Of course, this will be the very first room I decorate - to make sure it’s ready in time.’

His simple statement brought you from your reverie and you turned quickly on the spot to face him. He was stood, lounging casually against the door frame, hands in his pockets and with a knowing smile on his face.

'I… what do you… I mean, how did you know?!’ You asked wildly as your hands went gently to your belly. You’d barely had time to process the news yourself and here Chris was, already knowing. He cleared the distance between you in two easy strides and took your shoulders in his hands.

'So it’s true? I mean, I guessed but I wasn’t completely sure. I was hedging my bets back there.’

You looked up at him in wonder, 'I only found out today, how could you possibly-’

'I’ve got enough nieces and nephews to spot a pregnant woman when I see one, babe,’ he told you by way of explanation, 'Plus, Dodger’s been acting really weird around you. More protective. Keeps eyeballing me whenever I go near you like 'what have you done to my precious lady?!’ And the crying was kind of a giveaway.’

You laughed through your free flowing tears and placed your hands either side of his face, 'I love you, Chris Evans, but so help you God, this room better be ready way before I’m squeezing your kid out. In fact, let’s go make an offer and sign on the dotted line right now because your work begins tomorrow.’

Chris laughed with you, wiping your tears away with careful fingers, 'I love you too, sweetheart. This house is perfect, but only with you in it.’

And with that he kissed you soundly and deeply in the future nursery of your future child in your future home.


	11. In Sickness and in Health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have to cancel your date with Chris because you have contracted the most vile flu known to mankind.

‘Chris, you really don’t want to come round. I’m a mess! The place is disgusting, I’m disgusting. Please just stay away and let me get over this flu,’ you begged down the phone. The very last thing you wanted was for Chris, the Greek god you had somehow managed to score a few dates with, to see your sweaty, puffy eyed, red nosed, spluttering self. It was far too early on in whatever this thing was that you had going for him to be anywhere you at the moment.  
  
‘I seriously don’t care, I have seen people with flu before. In fact, don’t tell anyone, but I myself have actually suffered with flu before. Incredible I know, given my level of physical fitness, but there we go, even I am susceptible to the diseases of lesser mortals.’

You laughed at the mock-seriousness in his voice. Or tried to anyway. It quickly turned into a hacking cough and you held the phone away from your head as you struggled to catch your breath.

‘Sorry,’ you rasped when you’d gotten over the worst of the attack.

‘You poor thing,’ Chris crooned, genuine sympathy dripping from every word, 'Have you eaten today?’

'No, I don’t have to energy to make anything. I’m completely strung out! Can’t taste anything anyway so what’s the point?’

'You need to try and eat something, you hear me? Cereal, soup, anything! Drink plenty of fluids and get lots of rest. When I hang up, you need to go, eat, drink, sleep, in that order, okay?’

'Okay, I will, promise.’

'Okay, keep me updated and we’ll rearrange these dinner plans as soon as you feel better, all right?’

'Sounds good.’

After you had said your goodbyes and hung up, you felt convinced for a full thirty seconds that you would do as Chris said and get up for some food. But then you remembered how comfortable bed was and how lovely sleep always was and decided to stay where you were. Nap, then eat and drink, surely that was the best order of things?? You drifted off quickly and deeply, a pair of smiling blue eyes dancing in your imagination.

***  
When you were startled awake by a bang and the shudder of walls and floor that was only associated with someone - or something - entering your apartment, your consciousness struggling to drag itself out of the flu-induced coma, your first thought wasn’t even to be worried (as was the most likely explanation) that you were being burgled by an opportunistic thief. Instead, it was that you were going to die in this snot-tissue filled room with only your malicious killer for company and, most frustratingly, looking like absolute shit. You could see the news reports already: 'Woman, 28, found dead at home. Initial investigations indicated the cause of death to be bubonic plague or tuberculosis due to her horrific appearance but further studies showed that she had, in fact, been murdered and just happened to look really, really bad at the time.’

By the time you had come round enough to accept that this was the end of the road for you and no amount of post-mortem dressing up was going to make an open casket ceremony a possibility, the person had approached your bedroom door. Your mind quickly ran through logical possibilities as to who it could be in an attempt to slow your racing heart - your mom maybe? She could be making a surprise and, given your current state of health, extraordinarily well-timed visit? Or perhaps Charlotte, your best friend, if she’d happened to get out of work early today for some unforeseen reason? Even as these perfectly reasonable explanations surfaced, you cursed yourself (not for the first time) for leaving a key to your apartment in a secret location in the hallway. Although hiding your door key under Mrs Albiston’s plant pot next door (surely this was genius - no one would ever think to look under ANOTHER PERSON’S PLANT POT for a key to an apartment) had saved you on numerous occasions, any time you heard something suspicious in the block, your mind immediately jumped to that lone key sitting out there where anyone might find it and use it. 

As the handle to your bedroom door turned, you could swear you could literally feel your heart in your mouth, pounding away mercilessly. Goodbye world, it’s been a pleasure, you thought. Time slowed as the door opened to reveal not a burglar with murderous intent, or your mom with a mother’s intuition for her daughter’s sickness, or even your best friend coming to cheer you up on your sick bed, but…

'Chris!’ you practically screamed, the adrenaline momentarily making you forget about your painful throat (and your shocking appearance), 'Jesus you scared me! What did you… why did you think… what are you doing here?!’

Chris flashed that infectious grin, 'I thought you sounded so pathetic and disease-ridden on the phone that you needed a knight in shining armour to lend a hand,’ he held up a plastic bag with what looked like food containers inside, 'I picked up anything I thought you might like and might make you feel better: chicken soup, chicken noodle soup, tomato soup, minestrone soup - lots of soup obviously - bread, orange juice, cookies, fruit, a selection of teas…’

He shrugged as he trailed off, realising there was little to no response from you except an open-mouthed goldfish-like facial expression. You eventually recovered and all your initial fears of him seeing you in this state resurfaced. Pulling the duvet over your head, you called to him from under the covers, pleadingly. 

'You shouldn’t be here! I mean, thank you so much and I will be eternally grateful for this act of chivalry and kindness but I look like shit and I’ve only known you a short while and, you know, I kinda like you, like really like you, and I didn’t want you to be scared off so soon! I’ve not washed my hair in three days, or changed my pyjamas, or even moved from this festering pit except to use the bathroom! And now you’re here, with soup, as a painful reminder of everything I’m about to lose! How did you even get in here by the way?’

You heard a chuckle followed by the rustle of the plastic bag being placed down as felt the side of the bed next to you sink under the weight of, you assumed, Chris. The covers were being prised from your tight grip so that at least you could meet the bemused gaze of those smiling, gorgeous (God, so gorgeous) eyes of his.

'I asked Mrs Albiston, nicely and with my most charming smile, if she knew where you kept your spare key because you were really sick and I was your boyfriend bringing you supplies. She told me I was one of the good ones and that you’ve been using her plant pot for years to hide your key.’

You let this sink in for a moment (Boyfriend! You internally hugged the word to yourself) and slowly, but surely, pulled the covers away from your face, 'I knew I couldn’t trust Mrs Albiston. The most murderous of serial killers could flash her a smile and she’d probably let them in to my apartment herself!’

'No, I think she’s one of those old ladies with a sixth sense about these things. So, which flavour of soup do you want first?’

'Can’t I have the cookies first?’ 

'Nope,’ he replied, popping the P with relish, 'Proper food first - soup and bread, with orange juice, followed by a hot bath and clean pjs, then you can have cookies and tea. I’ll put you some fresh sheets on while you’re in the bath and you’ll be on the road to recovery in no time.’

'Oh god, this place must stink,’ you groaned. He wouldn’t be your boyfriend for long!

He simply smiled affectionately in return, 'No, I just think you’ll feel better if you felt fresher and as you’ve got someone here to help, I may as well assist you to that end,’ he gestured to himself, drawing your eye to his defined chest through his (as always) slightly too-tight tshirt. Despite feeling horrid, you felt that little flutter of excitement that you got whenever you looked at him. You had to admit, a hot bath did sound amazing, and who were you to turn down such a good looking caregiver?!

'Okay Doctor Evans, I’ll have the chicken noodle please.’

***  
Later, you were bathed, wrapped in fresh pyjamas, under fresh sheets, fed and watered, and you were, admittedly, feeling a little more human again. Chris had stayed with you all afternoon, fetching water and flu meds, heating soup and refilling your hot water bottle when necessary. Now you were curled up against him as you watched your DVDs of Parks and Recreation, feeling, although it seemed like tempting fate to even think it, loved. You glanced in his direction without moving your head to look at his profile. His eyes were trained on the television and you could feel the comfortable weight of his arm wrapped around you, keeping you tucked close to his side. He was too good to be true.

'So… boyfriend huh?’

His gaze shifted to yours as a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, 'Yeah. I thought “gentleman caller” was probably a bit shocking for Mrs Albiston’s ears.’

'Oh, cool,’ you replied, attempting (and failing miserably, Jesus) to sound casual and nonchalant, breaking your eye contact and tucking your head back against his chest.

There was a beat of silence, and you knew, just KNEW, that Chris was internally chuckling at you.

'That okay?’ He eventually asked. 

'Yeah, I guess. I mean, if Mrs Albiston knows then it must be official,’ you feigned disinterest, the pitch of your voice giving you away. Luckily, Chris humoured you and played along. 

'Yeah, you’re right. And now I’ve seen you in this state, I figure, it can’t get much worse, can it? May as well be all in.’

You whipped your head up to look at him, open-mouthed in fake shock, to see amusement all over his face. You gave him a light dig in the arm, which he pretended to find painful, and told him, 'Well, you can always go and find some goddess who is immune to such lesser illnesses and leave me, mere mortal that I am, to my sick bed!’

He laughed and dropped a kiss on your forehead, 'Nah, you’re all right, I like my mortal woman, full of flu or not. How are you feeling now, girlfriend?’

That bubble of excitement welled again and a warmth spread through you, 'Much better, thanks, boyfriend.’


	12. The Dogs Aren't Allowed Upstairs

Chris comes home to an incredibly quiet house. A none-too-lengthy search later finds you, and the dogs, in the bedroom. All of you are fast asleep in or around the bed and, although the dogs aren’t supposed to be in the bedroom, they’ve not been able to leave you alone recently and he can clearly see that you gave in today. Probably through exhaustion, as you had been a lot lately, unsurprisingly. Leaning against the doorframe, he takes in the scene before him and can’t help but smile. The dogs just want to protect you in your current state and he can’t blame them. He snaps a quick picture on his phone and decides he’ll ask you later if it’s time to make an announcement to the world. He knows you’ll ask if he’s sure, that social media announcements aren’t usually his style, but he kind of really, definitely, publicly wants to own this one. 

_Our canine family members aren’t supposed to go upstairs but I can’t blame them for just wanting to protect something very important to us all #babyevans #arrivingsoon_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My stuff also exists on tumblr under the name @avaalons. There is an image that accompanies this so if you were ever interested in seeing it, you can head over to tumblr where it is featured.


	13. First Meet Nerves

The rental car slowed to a stop and the tension was palpable. It wasn't his fault of course. It was you that couldn't stop fidgeting, that had been painfully silent for the, in your opinion, far too short a journey from the airport. Chris put the car into park and glanced over to you, barely able to contain his excitement. You wished you could reciprocate but all you felt was nausea rolling around in your stomach. He reached over to place his warm hand comfortingly on your upper thigh. 

'Babe, there's no need to be so nervous. I keep telling you: they're awesome, you're awesome and you are going to love each other, I promise.'

'I know, I know. I just can't help it. This is... this is a big deal, that's all. I mean, it's your family and you love them-'

'I also love you, so come on, let's go. I can't wait to show you my room.'

With that, Chris opened his door and as he walked around the front towards the footpath through the neat garden that led to the door, you took a deep breath and left the car, meeting him out in the fresh air. You started walking, one foot steadily in front of the other, at Chris' side. It's not that you didn't want to meet Chris' family - you absolutely did. You just weren't used to the big family dynamic and you were desperately worried about what would happen if all of these new acquaintances didn't take to you. He must have noticed all the attention your eyes were giving your feet and he reached over to grab your hand firmly in his own. When you looked up at him in response, he gave you a reassuring smile and paused on the path, 'I swear sweetheart, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. There are a lot of them, of course, and you'll fit right in.'

He pulled you to his chest so he could plant a smacking kiss on the top of your head and began walking again. As you neared the door, it flew wide open and several faces at varying heights appeared in the frame, hands waving enthusiastically and excited shouts of welcome floating through the air towards you. You instinctively made to pull your hand out of Chris', wanting to be respectful in front of his family, but he held you fast, your solid, strong, constant.

You were both soon pulled apart and swallowed up by family, questions fired at you, smiles and hugs and kisses on cheeks from everyone. Of course he was right, you were made to feel nothing but absolutely welcome, but it was nice to still feel the print of Chris' hand in yours, reassuring as ever.


	14. Ball Buster

I felt drained after so much angst writing over the last couple of days so I fancied something a little sweet!

**Imagine Chris gets asked about you, his latest co-star, in a television interview. But you don’t know he’s developed a lil’ crush on you!**

“She’s amazing, seriously. She’s fuckin’ hilarious, I just laughed all day long during filming. And she busts my balls a bit, which I kinda secretly like, y'know, she doesn’t let me get away with any ego shit.”

_Which you need?_

“Probably more than I like to admit! My mom came to visit while we were shooting, near the beginning, because it was her birthday y'know, and so a group of us take her out for dinner and my mom just loved her. Then she starts getting really embarrassing, as moms do - ‘Chris, you need to bring this girl back to Boston and marry her!’ - and, bearing in mind this is a girl I’ve known for a crazily short amount of time at this point, but she just turns, gives her best deadpan and says, ‘I’m sorry to say this about your son but I’m way too good for him.’ My mom falls about laughing at me, this girl can do no wrong, I swear! I think she might actually be perfect.”


	15. Will His Own Kids Watch His Cbeebies Bedtime Story?

**I actually didn’t know. I hadn’t heard of it and she just said ‘this is something that is a big thing out here.’ She kind of told me the concept and I thought that it was really sweet and why not?**

  
_What about your own children? Will they be watching?_

  
Oh, probably. They’ll probably get their hands on the clip if I know them at all. Not when I’m around though! They get the real thing then. My wife and I, we’re big on reading to the kids. Every night, no matter what, no matter where we are, they get a bedtime story. I’ve done it via video call before now so yeah, reading is important in our house.

  
_And what’s their favourite?_

  
They’re both really into Beatrix Potter stories at the moment. Peter Rabbit, Jeremy Fisher, Jemima Puddleduck, you name it, we’ve read it. We’ve got the full set at home, they were my wife’s when she was a kid - apparently it was the very first thing her mom bought for her - so it’s really special for her to pass those stories on. So even if it is the same book over and over again, I just can’t resist, as soon as I hear ‘Daddyyyy, will you read to us tonight?’ I’d read the same book for the rest of my life to them, I swear!


	16. You’re Struggling to Find a Dress for the Oscars

It was only three days until the Oscars and you were desperately wishing that time travel was real so that you could go back and just choose a dress when there was still plenty of time left and no pressure of the big day looming over you like a black balloon. Chris was sorted, of course, but then it was always an easy process being a guy.

‘Hey babe, how did it go today? You find something?’ Chris asked you from where he lounged across the sofa, Dodger stretched out in a tiny sliver of space between Chris’ body and the back of the couch as they watched television together. 

‘No,’ you sighed, ‘I’ll have to try again tomorrow I guess.’

‘Not even anything that could be a possibility?’ 

You pulled your phone from your purse and Chris swung his legs off the sofa so you could sit next to him. Dodger moved so you could tuck yourself under Chris’ arm, and then jumped back up once you were settled, curling up next to you.

You tapped your photos app and began scrolling through, showing Chris the pictures the stylist had taken that afternoon as you tried on dress after dress. You gave him a sentence or two of commentary as you swiped from image to image. 

‘This one had a good cut but the colour did nothing for me… hated this… really liked the style of the skirt but the neckline was so awkward and uncomfortable… this made me look too boxy… didn’t like the cut outs here…’

And so on you went, barely giving Chris enough time to see any of the dresses, but he made noises of protest about how you looked beautiful in everything, until he stopped you.

‘Hey, go back, what was that one?’

‘This one?’ You asked as you flipped back a couple of photos.

‘Yeah, that looks great on you!’ 

It had been one of your favourites, you had to admit. The luxuriously flowing fabric hung casually from the shoulders, the deep neckline ending in a point just between your boobs. The material was gathered at the waist, ruched delicately over your bust and then fell to the floor. It was light, comfortable, moved well as you walked, was sophisticated and a little bit sexy. The overall effect was quite Grecian, only emphasised by the dress’ one fault: it was white. 

‘I did love it and I tried it on because it is my style, but I can’t wear it, it’s white!’

‘What’s wrong with white? White suits your colouring,’ Chris’ furrowed brow clearly betrayed his confusion. Poor guy, so naive.

‘Christopher, imagine all the times in a woman’s life where she might wear a white, floor length gown…’ 

You gave him a minute to try and work it out but as a couple of seconds ticked by, the heat of embarrassment rose in your cheeks. Maybe you were making a mountain out of a molehill. Maybe your refusal to wear white said more than just wearing the damn dress and not reading too much into it. 

‘…okay, a wedding right? But it’s not like weddings have the monopoly on white dresses. There’s plenty of them on the red carpet!’ 

You glanced down as you explained in a rush, ‘It’s just too bridal. It makes me look desperate. Like I’m trying to drop hints to you or something. And, you know, I’m not. We’re happy as we are. I just don’t want to spark gossip and opinions about our marital status.’ 

‘Babe, no one is going to think that, I swear. It doesn’t look like a wedding dress anyway, the cut is less… formal or something I guess.’ 

You chuckled at Chris’ attempt to describe fashion. He was sweet.

‘If the dress is comfortable and you feel good in it, just wear it! Don’t worry about what anyone thinks.’

‘It was really nice to wear…’ you conceded as Chris’ pep talk gave you a little more confidence. 

‘Exactly, so don’t worry. Besides, I can think of the perfect accessory to go with it. Wait here a second.’

He shot up off the sofa and headed for the stairs. You were puzzled, mentally running through your jewellery and purse collections, wondering what he had in mind. You gazed back down at the image in your hand as you tried pairing different pieces with it and wondering what shoes to wear. 

You heard his footsteps in the hall again and looked up as he walked in, hands behind his back with a grin on his face. 

‘What are you up to?’ You asked, amused suspicion lacing your words. 

He perched on the edge of the couch next to you again, taking one hand from behind his back and securing it around your fingers. 

‘I just thought that your white, floor length gown might look even nicer if, say, you had a rock on your finger to really set it off.’

He produced a small black velvet box from behind his back, and you were barely able to process his words. Your gaze flicked what felt like millions of times between the ring nestled against its velvet cushion and Chris’ expectant face and when he slid from the couch to the floor, balancing on one knee, you gasped, your face hot and the first drops of moisture pricking your eyes. 

‘Chris… what are you… this can’t - Christopher!’ 

‘Would you mind finding another white dress at some point in the future? Maybe one you could see yourself walking down an aisle to me in?’ 

You nodded, throat thick with emotion, what you could only imagine to be a stupidly wide grin on your face. 

‘Good, because I’ve been sitting on this for a while and it’s not been easy! Simply stated, I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love someone. My days are richer and more vivid with you in them, and you make me want to be the best version of myself on every single one of them. I want to continue building this life that we’ve started together and I’m hoping that you want the same.’

You gave him a good natured roll of your eyes through your tearful smile at end. Of course you wanted the same, the big dummy. His little sliver of insecurity was only ever endearing. 

‘So, the big question then,’ he took a deep breath, ‘Will you please make me the happiest man on earth and agree to marry me?’

You gave a wide beaming smile in response, nodding emphatically as Chris slid the ring on to your finger. Joyful, sobbing laughs spilled from you both and he leaned up to kiss you firmly, you meeting him half way and punctuating his kisses with the word ‘Yes’ over and over again. 

***

‘So, we hear congratulations are in order?!’ 

A microphone was thrust out at you as the two of you paused on the red carpet press line, the whole affair as noisy and manic as always and a complete sensory overload. 

Chris took over, as he usually did, feeling that this was part of his job, not yours.

‘Well, I asked the question and she said yes, so we’re pretty ecstatic right now.Still in a bubble of happiness I think,’ he said, glancing down into your face at the end, joy still etched into both of your features. 

‘And can you tell us anything about the proposal? Was it super romantic?’ 

‘Honestly, it was the white dress that did it,’ Chris didn’t even look back at the presenter, just gazed at you, his eyes intently on yours, ‘I just couldn’t resist her.’


	17. Breakfast in Bed

‘Good morning babe!’ Chris’ joyful sing-songing was almost too much at this time in the morning, and when he threw back the curtains to let the warm morning sunshine filter through your master bedroom window, it was definitely too much.

You groaned at being forced awake, burying your head under your pillow.  
  
‘S’what time s’it?’ you eventually asked, your muffled voice filtering above layers of down. 

‘Not too early, not too late. Come on sleepyhead, I made breakfast,’ he drew out the syllables on the last word, enticing you to awaken properly.

Now that he mentioned it, you could smell bacon and… was that pancakes?? And, damn it, your stomach betrayed you with a loud grumble. 

You lifted your head up from your position flat on your stomach, the pillow falling to the side and hair covering your face. You peered at him through one eye, the one that could stand being open against the bright, bright morning light, and saw your handsome husband, looking equal parts adorably expectant and sinfully sexy in his shirtless state, breakfast tray in hand. You couldn’t help but smile, tired and grumpy as you were. It was, admittedly, difficult to stay tired and grumpy around him. Especially when he was only wearing his boxers and a tray of breakfast food.

You flipped over, propping yourself up against the headboard, blowing your hair from your face and patting the duvet next to you in invitation.

‘You’re the best, you know that? Even if you do wake me up at ungodly hours of the morning.’

Chris set the tray down over you, the legs on either side helping it hover over your body, then leaned over it to press his lips to yours in lingering fashion before setting himself next to you, careful not to jostle any of the food or drinks on the tray. There was an impressive selection: croissants, fruit salad, the already-detected bacon and pancakes, yoghurt and granola, freshly squeezed orange juice and tea, decaffeinated, of course. 

‘Chris, this is so lovely, thank-‘ and that was when you noticed the single stem white rose, like those you’d had in your bouquet as you’d walked down the aisle towards him, and the envelope with your name on and there was only one, sinking thought in your mind and you covered your mouth in shock as you turned to look at him, ‘Shit, I…’

‘I know, I know, you forgot. I knew it in the week when you seemed unbothered about dinner plans for tonight,’ Chris was still smiling, despite you being the worst wife in the world. On the other hand, you felt like crying. 

‘Chris, how are you being so nice? I feel like crap. How can I have forgotten our first anniversary?’ You sounded whiny but you didn’t care, it was only a vocal embodiment of the guilt eating away at you.

‘Don’t worry about it babe, honestly. You’ve had a lot on your mind the last few weeks,’ he fed his hand in the space between the tray and stomach and rested his hand on it over the duvet. There was no swelling there yet, nothing that gave away the news you had confirmed only yesterday, but your heart soared anyway, ‘I like having the element of surprise anyway!’ 

You rested your head against his shoulder, laying your hand on top of his. 

‘I’m still sorry though.’

‘Just consider yesterday my early anniversary present,’ he punctuated his placating with a kiss to your forehead.

It had taken longer than either of you had expected to fall pregnant, even after stopping the pill months before your wedding, the intention being that you’d start actively trying for a baby on honeymoon. Entertaining the idea of a honeymoon baby had been fun at first, but then the months had gone by and you were still getting your period. One after the other brought disappointment and the two of you had eventually agreed, with the help of your doctor, to chill out, relax, and enjoy the process for a year before considering further medical intervention. 

And here you were, with only one day to go, it had been confirmed that you were, finally, pregnant. You’d been so relieved and overjoyed and shocked when the doctor had delivered the news that your tears of happiness had only started when you had seen Chris’ watery eyes and beaming smile as his grip on your hand tightened.

‘Okay, enough being sorry now and just eat before the hot stuff gets cold,’ Chris commanded lightly with grin, ‘We need to experiment with food, see if anything kicks off either cravings or morning sickness.’

You laughed at his enthusiasm, ‘Let’s just be optimistic. I might not even get morning sickness!’ 

‘Nah, full pregnancy experience I think! I want it all: holding your hair back when you’re puking a million times a day, massaging your swollen ankles, having to plan all our outings around where the bathrooms are when the baby’s sitting on your bladder, being able to laugh at you when you get uncontrollable gas, being a sex slave when your libido goes into overdrive… all the good stuff.’

You lightly pushed him against his shoulder as you laughed, ‘Oh god, what have I got myself into?!’

‘Don’t feel so bad about forgetting our anniversary now, huh?’

‘No way Evans, growing this human of yours will be your present from me for every anniversary, birthday and Christmas for at least the next five years.’ 

You turned your head up to look at him marvelling, as you often did, at just how awesome (and sexy - he wasn’t lying about the libido thing) he was. There was nothing but adoration in his face and you knew he genuinely didn’t care.

‘Fine by me, babe, trust me,’ his words only backed up what you saw in his expression and the following kiss only cemented it.

In the pure rollercoaster of home test after home test, questioning every new symptom and, finally, finally, getting the nod from the doc, you had totally forgotten what else this time of year marked. It was a good job you had an incredible husband to remember these things for you. 

And to feed you amazing anniversary breakfasts.


	18. Big Wedding Planning

The first time, it had been the cake. You felt sure this was a perfect event to start off the wedding planning with, to ease Chris in. Who doesn’t like eating cake, right? And then that would give you a good start and set the tone, so that when it came to shit like fonts and seating plans and cutlery, it would be less of a chore. Or you had hoped anyway. 

When you had originally suggested the cake thing, Chris’ immediate response was, ‘Don’t you want to take your sister or your mom? Or my mom even? Or Carly - she’s done this before - I don’t know if I’m the best choice to help you make these decisions.’

You had won him over, eventually, with a long speech about how this was his wedding just as much as it was yours, and you didn’t want to have that stereotypical disinterested husband-to-be who just shows up on the day with a pressed suit, if you were lucky. 

But as you sat there, trying little square after little square of cake and getting nothing at all from Chris by way of preference, you were beginning to regret it. You eventually sighed and selected the chocolate and vanilla alternate layered cake with ‘naked’ style buttercream frosting and sugar flowers. Chris agreed with you, of course, but only because he wanted to get home for the game. 

***

The second time was flowers. He tried to tell you his opinion didn’t factor in to flowers, that you had perfect taste and whatever you picked would be beautiful but you argued that you needed his untrained eye for perspective: you didn’t want to end up getting arrangements that looked too old fashioned or dowdy. 

But this time he just liked everything that was put in front of him and any time you asked what he thought, he just replied with, ‘Get whatever you think is best. It’s your vision.’

You wanted to stamp your feet a little bit and throw a tantrum. You were disappointed that he apparently didn’t have a vision of what the wedding was going to look like. His own wedding day, and he seriously had no ideas about what it might be like? It was worrying, you weren’t going to lie. 

Chris wasn’t one to shy away from planning and preparation of events and he usually quite liked going shopping. It was eating away at you that he didn’t seem at all excited about this. 

***

The third time, you were seriously ready to cry. It was the wedding bands for fuck’s sake. The most important and symbolic piece of jewellery you were ever going to own and he just wasn’t in it at all. 

‘Just something simple for me. This one will do,’ he’d informed you approximately one minute and eighteen seconds after entering the jeweller’s and pointing at the plainest white gold band he could find nestled against the display case cushion. ‘You get something fancier if you want though, babe.’

Was that supposed to make you feel better? He wanted something that, aside from the fact it was made from a precious metal, resembled a piece of plumbing equipment but you could get whatever you wanted. 

‘Don’t you want platinum, sweetheart? I thought maybe an engraving on the inside might be nice too,’ you tried to pique his attention, knowing he was a sucker for sentimental words. 

‘Platinum doesn’t look any different to white gold to me. And I can’t see much call for engravings, no one will ever see it anyway, will they?’

‘Yes but…’ you wanted to say ‘we’ll know it’s there,’ but the words died on your lips and you couldn’t be bothered trying to argue the point. 

***

The fourth time felt like your last ditch attempt. If he wasn’t down for this, you were going to have to have an actual, honest to God conversation with him about what his detachment meant. 

It was lingerie shopping so surely, SURELY he was going to like this. You hadn’t even originally intended on letting Chris in on the secret of what was going to be under your dress on the day, mainly because you’d be having a built in bra in your dress because it was backless, but by this time, you were feeling so insecure about his whole attitude towards the wedding, you had made a change of plans. If there was time to change into lingerie on the wedding night, you would, but otherwise you’d just save it for the honeymoon. It’d be worth it, if it settled your fears about Chris and his disinterest in your wedding.

So there you were, in a private and spacious changing area of a very high end and very discreet lingerie store. The kind you need to make an appointment for. Chris was sat on a muted heather velour loveseat and you were behind the curtain, snapping on a beautiful off-white lace strapless bra, matching panties and a garter belt. You plumped your hair a bit, stepped back into the heels you’d worn especially for the occasion and tried to shake off your uneasiness, took a deep breath and pulled back the curtain, the rings clinking against the metal pole suspended from the wall. 

But there he was, headphones in, watching a video on his phone, laughing as quietly as he was able. And your heart sank. You didn’t even have enough of an effect on him that he felt even a little excited anticipation at what you might be trying on FOR HIM. 

‘Do you even want to marry me Christopher?’ You don’t know how you kept your voice from shaking, but it didn’t matter because he wasn’t listening anyway.

Now you were just mad. 

You stalked over to him in the lingerie set, hair flying and a determined set on your mouth and yanked the headphones from his ears. He looked up in shock, startled.

‘Babe, what the - oh, you look nice!’

You ignored the comment that threatened to make your blood boil even more (NICE!) and repeated your previous question, hands on your hips.

‘I said, do you even want to marry me, Christopher?’

‘What?! Of course I do!’ It was his second time being shocked and startled in just thirty seconds.

‘Well, do you think there’s the slightest chance you might start acting like it some time between now and our wedding day!’

You turned on your heel and stormed back to the dressing room as tears threatened to fall. You flung the curtain across and began snapping the clasps on the garter open so you could roll down your stockings but you heard the curtain open again almost immediately, and you could see his reflection in the mirror. He did, at least, have the decency to look remorseful.

‘Baby, I’m sorry. Scott just sent me this funny video of the kids messing around back home and I thought I’d have time-‘

You didn’t look up at him, just busied yourself carefully taking off your stockings. 

‘It’s not just today Chris,’ you sighed, rolling off the second stocking and laying them gently over the plush footstool in the corner of the dressing room. 

Then you stood up straight and faced him, barely believing you were about to have this conversation while you were half naked in the dressing room of a lingerie store. If you weren’t genuinely upset, you’d laugh. 

‘You didn’t want to choose cake, or flowers, and weren’t even interested in choosing the rings with me. It’s like you don’t want a part of any of it. I’m happy to do the less interesting stuff like name cards and tablecloths but how much am I going to have to do by myself here? Do I need to pick our first dance song by myself? Do I need to write your vows?? Or shall we just quit while we’re ahead and you can admit you made a mistake asking me to marry you? I never pushed you for this Chris, I didn’t expect it at all. This was your stupid idea, and now look at me.’

Your upset was obvious by now, cheeks damn and breathing hitching slightly and he took your hands in his. 

‘I honestly didn’t realise that’s how I’d been behaving. Sweetheart, why didn’t you say something sooner?’

‘Because I was scared you were going to take it back, dumb ass!’ 

He grinned a little and gathered you into his arms and you let him, feeling comforted after your dramatic outburst.

‘Don’t you dare laugh at me, Christopher Evans.’

‘I swear I’m not,’ it was a barefaced lie and he knew it, ‘It’s just, I guess I don’t need all this. All this fancy stuff, cake and flowers and big venues and huge seating plans… it’s just stuff. I want to marry you because I want to spend my life with you, not because I want a big day with a load of stuffy traditions and distant aunts and uncles we don’t even know.’

‘You don’t? I thought… well hearing your mom talk about it when we got engaged made it seem like…’

‘Oh no, don’t get me wrong, my mom wants the big wedding, the whole nine yards and then some, but I don’t need all that. We can do it, if that’s what you want, and I swear I’ll be fully switched on for every single decision from here on out, but it’s not essential for me.’

You sighed again, this time releasing months and months of building tension. This wasn’t what you wanted either. You been so stressed trying to plan this damn thing. You pushed back out of his embrace, keeping your hands wrapped around his forearms. 

‘It’s not for me either, at all. I’ve been so worked up about it and… this isn’t me! I don’t CARE about fonts and cutlery and seating plans. I just want to marry you.’

He beamed at you, ‘Let’s go then, let’s scrap it all. Vegas? We could go tomorrow, tell our parents and siblings to meet us there.’

You grinned at him, cogs turning in your mind, ‘I think I’ve got an idea.’

‘Okay then babe, let’s get a plan together,’ he tugged the side of the curtain to slip out back to the loveseat before turning back to you once more, ‘But we’re taking this lingerie with us. Garter and stockings and all.’

***

It was a beautiful day, bright and sunny but not too hot. Your guests would be arriving any second, under the impression they were coming to a pre-wedding celebration dinner you and Chris were throwing. Little did they know, you were getting married in your back garden. 

They’d know when they arrived, of course, and saw the chairs laid out in rows on the lawn, and the arched pergola adorned with climbing roses and fairy lights. But until that moment, it was a total secret, from everyone but Scott, who had agreed, as Chris’ brother and your soon-to-be brother-in-law, to hold it in and to also be your ‘extra pair of hands’ on the day, making sure everything was running smoothly while the two of you got ready separately. And to stop your mom’s freaking out when they arrived without hats. 

There had been a wedding planner, of course, to coordinate furniture and a minister and catering, but it had been so completely and utterly scaled back from what you were trying to do before that the whole thing had felt like a breeze. 

You slipped into your simple lace dress, sweetheart neckline with spaghetti straps, fitted to just above the knee with a slight flare at the bottom and felt oddly calm. Not flustered, not panicked, just… serene and totally ready for what could only be the most perfect wedding for the two of you.

A gentle knock at the door sounded through the relative quiet of your room and a voice you knew so well, and would know for years to come, drifted through the solid wood. 

‘Sweetheart, I’m going down now. Scott says everyone is here. Your dad is prepped and ready to walk you. You ready?’ 

‘Absolutely. I’ll see you in ten.’

‘See you down the aisle,’ you could hear the excitement in his tone.

‘Chris?’

‘Yeah babe?’

‘Love you.’

‘Love you. With all my heart.’

***

They were the longest ten minutes of your life. You heard the chaotic din of the fifty-strong congregation out in the garden heighten slightly, signalling Chris’ arrival and then all you had to do was wait. 

At thirty seconds to go, you grabbed your bouquet made up of delicate wildflowers and slipped into your shoes (flats: you were at home, your dress covered your feet and you had to walk on grass while everyone stared at you). A final check of your hair and make up in the mirror and you threw open your bedroom door, ready to become Mrs Evans.


	19. Your Man Child

Just a quick one! Fulfilling an anonymous request that actually asked for a sequel-ish to another request I did a while back: [The Age of Love](https://avaalons.tumblr.com/post/164567767824/chris-evans-fic-the-age-of-love%E2%80%9D). 

_Can I request something similar to your last imagine, but this time its her that gets shit (maybe on a talk show cos she’s famous also) and she plays along then switches it to be like he may be older but I’m way more mature. Fluffy ending with them cos your amazing at that. Totally get if its too similar to the last and doesn’t interest you._

*** 

As the applause and cheer went up, you focused on keeping the smile on your face and putting one foot successfully in front of the other. No matter how many of these talk shows you did, you never got used to the noise and the lights and the talking about yourself. It certainly didn’t come naturally to you but did come with the territory, so each time, you slipped into publicity mode. That was the joy of being an actress: you could act your way through anything in front of a camera. 

You had been through the usual questions about your latest film, dropping in funny stories about your co-stars and trying to make the audience laugh. In all honesty, this was one of the more comfortable chat show experiences. It was a pre-filmed UK chat show, was aired late night and all the guests were on the sofa together - some you knew from the acting community, some you had never met before - but best of all, there were drinks, so it made for a more relaxed atmosphere than usual. A few sips of wine warmed your insides and helped you relax into the conversational, humorous tone of the show. 

As the host, Graham Norton, moved on to the other guests, you assumed you were safe until the conversation somehow cycled around to your very famous fiancé and you tuned back in with sharp focus, gulping down your mouthful of wine swiftly before giving a nervous laugh. Martin Freeman was there promoting the new episodes of Sherlock airing on the BBC, and with his roles in the Marvel films, Graham was quick to point out the connection.

‘Of course,’ Graham’s enthusiastic voice moved the conversation on, ‘you two have more in common than just sitting on my sofa!’

Both you and Martin laughed, giving each other a sly glance as Martin volunteered an answer, ‘No, the superhero that keeps busting my chops every chance he gets somehow managed to win this lovely young lady over, I believe.’

‘Yes! A certain Mr Chris Evans,’ Graham clarified for the audience as a red carpet picture popped up on the screen behind him and the crowd cheered and wolf whistled. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks at the reaction. 

‘Yeah, that’s the reaction I have every time I see him too!’ You joked at the audience, earning yourself a laugh. 

‘You sure he’s not too old to be running around with you? Bit of an oldie now, isn’t he?’ Martin laughed at your side, ‘Oh god, who am I kidding, get him off the screen! Just seeing his picture makes me feel inadequate!’

‘Hey!’ You pretended to jump to Chris’ defence, ‘He might be a few years older than me but I’m the mature one in this relationship, I can promise you!’

‘Really?! Care to elaborate for us,’ Graham cast a hand out from himself to the audience, urging you to tell a story. The wine had relaxed you enough that you weren’t as desperate to keep quiet about him as you usually were. 

‘Oh god yeah, he’s a big kid! Ice cream for dinner, Disney movie marathons, Disneyland trips every year… and like, he pretends it’s for the kids, for his niece and nephews, but we all know who it’s really for. He ain’t fooling no one! It’s not the kids suggesting racing to Space Mountain the minute we’re through the gate, that’s for sure.’ The audience laughs again and you realise you’re enjoying yourself.

‘And she’s marrying the guy!’ Martin shouts out in mock-disbelief. A huge cheer goes up again and you sink against the back of the sofa in embarrassment.

‘Yeah… he’s my opposite in a lot of ways, and I guess that’s why it’s works.’

The audience, Graham and the guests all erupt in a round of ‘awww’ and your face positively burns. You press the backs of your hands against your cheeks in a show of flushed embarrassment and Graham thankfully picks up on it above the din around you.

‘Okay, okay, let’s move on before she sets on fire from embarrassment and giddiness!’

***

Later that night, you were in your hotel room, tucked up in bed. You were still in the UK for another week for the promotion and so there had been a lot of phone and video communication with Chris and Dodger. Luckily, when you were at the end of the day and in bed, it was generally late evening for Chris in LA.

‘So I got to tell you something…’ you began with a hint of joking warning to the bearded face that you loved more than anything on your screen.

Chris’ reply was wary and his expression light hearted but guarded, ‘Why? What have you done now?’

‘So, I’ve been filming the Graham Norton show tonight and Martin - Freeman - was there and I may have made fun of you. A little bit,’ you added with a rush and a smile, knowing he wouldn’t really be annoyed, holding up your thumb and index finger with an inch between them to show how Chris just how little you made fun of him.

He grinned, raising his eyebrows, ‘Oh really? And what could you have possibly said about me?!’

‘Hmm, just how you might be older than me but that you’re a big kid who still likes to eat ice cream for dinner and holds races to Space Mountain.’

He barked out a laugh, ‘Is that all? Babe, I’ve said worse about myself. You’re so cute.’ 

You rolled over to your side, settling your head against the pillow, taking your phone with you, ‘S’why you’re marrying me.’

‘Among other reasons,’ his expression changed, eyes soft and showing his affection, ‘You sleepy? I should let you go.’

‘No, no, it’s okay. I don’t have an early morning tomorrow.’

‘I just can’t believe you talked about me on TV. You never talk about me!’ There was something like a thread of pride in his words. 

‘I know, I like the privacy! And you don’t like it when everything’s out there either, right?’

‘Hmm,’ he agreed, a mischievous glint in his eye, ‘Looks like I’ve got some payback to deliver now though.’


End file.
